


What kind of man (loves like this?)

by JadeSabre83



Series: Merry Chissmas Fest [2]
Category: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Blow Jobs, But Mostly Smut, Dom!Thrawn, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Merry Chissmas Bingo (Star Wars), Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27988404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeSabre83/pseuds/JadeSabre83
Summary: Cadet First Class Ellie Vanto has a problem, and its name is Thrawn.
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Ellie Vanto (Genderswapped Eli Vanto)
Series: Merry Chissmas Fest [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048555
Comments: 20
Kudos: 33





	What kind of man (loves like this?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [draculard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/gifts), [evilmouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilmouse/gifts).



> Another! 
> 
> This one is gifted to two very dear friends; for Drac for killing me with smut so often, and for Evilmouse for inspiring some of the language in this fic (and also often killing me with smut).
> 
> Prompts used: Unexpected kink discovery, Wait. What?, So very busted, In the shower alone, Why would you do that?

Cadet First Class Ellie Vanto has a problem, and its name is _Thrawn_ ; every single perfectly toned, one-hundred-ninety centimeters of the glorious big blue bastard. 

It all starts when they arrive at Royal Imperial and they’re assigned a _shared_ room instead of _adjoining_ rooms—something about budgetary concerns, and didn’t she grow up sharing a room with her siblings like all other Wild Space kids anyway? (Though, honestly, the problem _really_ begins the second she lays eyes on the damn near feral vision of a man).

And while she did share a room with her siblings, it was with one of her sisters, and not one of her brothers, and even then none of them ever just started stripping down in the middle of the room like it was no big deal.

“Why would you _do that?_ ” she squeaks (yes, _squeaks)_ out the question before he gets to his pants (but not before getting an eye full of his bare chest; for a man that she guesses is in his early 40s, he’s in serious shape).

“Is it not acceptable among humans to disrobe in mixed company?” he asks so innocently.

She is...not ready to answer such a loaded question. “I’m just gonna change in the ‘fresher.”

And so begins three of the most awkward months of her entire life.

It only gets worse from that first night; somehow that image of Thrawn’s bare (sculpted, toned, amazing) chest is burned into her memory, and soon enough that same chest is pressed up against her back (and chest, and arms, and legs) during their sparring sessions. This latest one is the worst yet. Not only does he get her down to the mat in record time, he’s also got her pinned face down, one arm twisted up behind her back, but she _swears_ she feels something _hard_ and _big_ pressing up against her as well.

And _stars above_ does she need to get laid. But the chances of Thrawn actually being interested in her are about as likely as a Wookiee winning a beauty pageant. And while she knows from talk alone that there are plenty of home _and_ away team players at the academy, her Wild Space heritage has her at a severe disadvantage. So furious masturbation it is.

She waits until she’s in the shower alone (except for that one time that she just couldn’t, and she’s still not sure if Thrawn heard her barely controlled gasp or not), eternally grateful that the spoiled Core Worlders can’t do without water as she adjusts the flow of the showerhead, directing the jet of water at her clit. She has to bite back a moan as it hits _just_ right, pressing her hands against the wall and closing her eyes to let her mind wander.

Tonight’s fantasy is courtesy of the sparring match, of course. Though instead of letting her up after pinning her, Thrawn keeps her in place before violently tugging her pants and underwear down. Sometimes in her fantasies he teases, prolonging it for as long as possible. Tonight she simply cannot wait, so the Thrawn of her imagination slams into her in one solid stroke as she slides three fingers into her soaking wet cunt. She slaps a hand over her mouth, just as Thrawn would to keep anyone from interrupting their private session.

Except for some reason her mind shifts, and instead of this being a private sparring session, it’s a _regular_ session, and they’ve got an audience as Thrawn fucks her into the dojo mat. 

She comes so hard and so fast that she nearly doesn’t stifle her cries of pleasure, and _hello_ unexpected kink discovery.

If she thought things would get easier once they had their assignment, well, she would be wrong. While they, thank The Maker, have separate rooms, they’re no longer on (mostly) equal footing and she now has to call him " _Sir"._ And as that’s a kink she already knew about, it adds some interesting material to her spank bank. She can at least masturbate in the comfort of her bed now, and it seems that the fine folks of the _Blood Crow_ are far less discerning than the elitist pricks of Royal Imperial when two months in she gets propositioned by a guy in engineering and a gal in communications (and then by both of them _together_ ).

Everything is going great, until Thrawn goes and gets himself court martialed.

All things being even, Coruscant is the _last_ place Ellie ever wanted to come back to. Especially during Ascension Week. It’s like a Who’s Who of the Elitist Assholes. All the Pricks Come Out to Play. 

And if she has to go to _one_ more party, she will scream.

Tonight’s torture is set at the Alisandre Hotel; Ellie knows that the name should hold some sort of significance, but to her it’s just another overpriced hotel full of overdressed people putting on fake platitudes as they get drunk on overpriced drinks, all in the name of the Empire.

Thrawn seems to be handling himself, for the most part (though she almost feels bad when she spots Senator Renking headed his way; _almost_ ), so she seizes the opportunity to get in line for the bar and waste what few spare credits she has for the week on one of those overpriced drinks.

“Well, you _know_ she’s sleeping with him. It’s the only reason she got into Royal Imperial in the first place.”

This being Coruscant, the _she_ in question could be anyone, but for some reason Ellie feels compelled to listen.

“Of _course_ they’re sleeping together. You’ve heard all about those _alien appetites_.”

Now that _definitely_ narrows it down. To, oh, about _two_ people. The voices, both female, both thick Core World accents (Kuati, maybe?) are coming from right behind her, and it’s taking every single ounce of willpower she has left (which after this week, isn’t much at all) to not turn around.

“At least she’s serving the Empire. You know how those Wild Space women are; by now I’m sure she’d be married with five kids if she had stayed home.”

Ellie forces a smile on her face as she pays for her drink, then turns around and _accidentally_ runs into the two Core World _schuttas_ , spilling all twenty credits worth of said drink equally over both of them.

“Oh, my!” She pours as much Wild Space drawl into her voice as possible. “I am so, so sorry. All these pretty clothes and shiny lights, they just got me so discombobulated!” The fake smile remains until she’s a few feet away, and she sets her empty glass down on the tray of a passing waiter before exiting the ballroom. Her escape is nearly in sight when she spots the turbolift; from there it’s just a short ride down to the hovertaxi platform...then a much longer ride to the hotel that was affordable during Ascension Week on an ensign’s salary. She’s—

“Ensign Vanto.”

—she’s so very busted.

Thrawn’s heavily accented basic wraps around her ears as his hand wraps firmly around her upper arm, his grip punishing as he escorts (drags) her onto the turbolift. She watches with wide eyes as he hits the button for one of the suite levels, and not the platform level...and that’s about when her heart sinks to the level of her stomach.

She swallows. “Sir, I—”

" _Retan'cehah._ ”

Ellie has only been able to parse out a handful of words in Thrawn’s native language; whatever he’s just said is not one of them, but the way he says it makes it sound like it cannot be a very good word. And it sure shuts her up real quick, her mouth snapping closed as she stares down at her boots.

By the time they arrive at Thrawn’s suite, her heart is now sitting solidly around the level of her knees and her stomach is twisted into several knots. This isn’t exactly how she’d been hoping to find her way into one of the Alisandre’s rooms this week; though it’s just as ostentatious as she imagined. The sitting area alone is bigger than her hotel room.

“Why did you assault those two women?”

Ellie is a grown woman, an Imperial officer, and in _so much trouble_ that rolling her eyes is the last thing she should do right now. The temptation is there, though, yet somehow she pushes past it. “I did not assault them. I accidentally bumped into them, and spilled my drink in the process.”

“Do not lie to me, Ensign Vanto.” Thrawn’s voice is dangerously low, his eyes narrow, and, honestly, if she wasn’t walking such a thin line right now she’d be insanely turned on.

(Okay, so she’s maybe a _little_ turned on).

“Fine.” Losing all sense, Ellie crosses her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes right back at him. “Those Core World _schuttas_ were sayin’ some horrible things about me. You, too. And better I spill my twenty credit drink on them than punch them both. Unless you’re so desperate to experience another court martial, only this time it’d be my ass in the hot seat and you’d get a crash course in how Imperial politics really work because while you may be an alien, at least you have a dick hangin’ between your legs and not a pair of tits on your chest.” She’s out of breath by the time she gets that all out, the full consequences of what she’s just said not catching up with her yet. “May I please be dismissed, sir?”

“No, you may not.” He raises a hand to silence any argument. “Rather than rise to the station of your rank and training and ignore their words, you chose to give into your emotions and react in a way unbecoming of an officer. In doing so, you put our already fragile reputation at risk. Not only that, you _lied_ to me. Just as you have been lying to me this entire time.”

“Wait. What?” She had been staring at a point somewhere on the floor during that little dressdown, but the bit about lying to him for so long has her head snap back up. “What do you mean I’ve been lyin' to you ‘this entire time’?”

“You want me, Ellie Vanto.” He speaks it like gospel, closing the distance between them and stepping into her personal space like he belongs there. “You have wanted me, likely since we first met. Instead, you disrespect me by lying to me. Were we among the Chiss, I could argue for you to be subject to the _tsuzepi_ for disrespecting a senior officer.”

“What—” she licks her lips, mouth gone dry, “—what’s that?”

“You would be ordered to remove your clothing before assuming the position and receiving punishment from a wooden paddle. The officer administering the punishment would then have it within their purview to engage in sexual intercourse. All of this would occur on the bridge.”

That sounds...horrible. And _no,_ there is no way that she’s not even a little more turned on now than she was a few minutes ago. “Oh.”

“So what are we going to do about this, Ellie Vanto?” Thrawn steps in even closer, forcing her back up against the wall.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Sir.”

Thrawn’s grin can only be described as predatory. “I think that you do.” He removes her cap, tossing it aside, then slides a hand into her hair, freeing it from the high and tight bun. Seconds later, his lips crash against hers, that same hand grasping onto her hair to hold her head in place. Her lungs greedily suck in air when he pulls away. “On your knees.”

Not that she needs the encouragement, but the hand in her hair gives a little tug on the way down. And then Thrawn is waiting for her, and though she’s no virgin, and this is far from the first time she’s dropped to her knees for someone, there’s something about Thrawn that has the ability to make her _feel_ like this is the first. Her hands fumble with his belt, and she lets out a little curse when she struggles with the fasteners of his uniform pants. But then, _finally_ , she has him free.

His cock is...big. And (mostly) human looking. 

“In your own time, Ensign.” There’s a slightly sardonic grin on his face when she glances up at him, and his hand brushes at the corner of her mouth before moving to the back of her head.

Well, you don’t need to tell her twice.

Ellie gets to work, worshipping his cock like it’s the last assignment she’ll ever have. Thrawn grunts each time she takes him as deep as she can, speaking words in his language that she assumes are meant to be encouraging (because they’re working), slipping in the occasional _good girl_ in Basic. When he comes she swallows it all, and the look of pure adoration on his face is totally worth the ache in her jaw and knees.

Next, he’s ordering her to strip, then to get on the bed on her hands and knees, and then he _spanks_ her.

The first blow comes without warning, or _warmup_ , and it _hurts._ And she lets him know, cursing in Basic and Sy Bisti. 

That blue bastard has the audacity to chuckle, actually _chuckle_ , and when she tries to turn around he grabs her arms, easily pinning both of her wrists behind her back in one of his hands. “Take the rest of your punishment like a good girl, and maybe you will get a reward.”

Oh _kriff,_ if he hasn’t just picked up on one of her kinks like an expert.

Even the next two blows don’t change her mind; now that she’s got a level of expectation for the speed and intensity. She cries out with each, and again with the next three, whimpering when he pauses to run a finger down her slit, stopping just short of her aching clit. Five more this time, then he’s sliding a finger (fingers?) into her and she turns her head so the thick covers of the bed can muffle her moan.

“No. I want to hear you.”

He starts fucking her with his fingers ( _definitely_ finger _s_ ), and soon enough she’s ready to tell him that, while it feels so _kriffing good_ , that she’ll probably not be able to come like this unless he focuses on her clit too. But then he curls his fingers _just_ right, and angles his wrist _just_ right, and...

“Oh _kriff._ ”

Her orgasm crashes down on her like a wave, and she comes with a strangled cry. Only one other person (a girl named Jacie, back in senior school on Lysatra) had ever made her come like that before. She remembers how _messy_ it was, but before the self consciousness can fully settle in, Thrawn’s cock is there to distract her. She’s still shaking when he slides in, entering her all the way to the hilt in one solid thrust. He’s not giving her any time to adjust, either. He just gets to fucking her, hard and deep and fast, and it’s absolutely everything she’s needed for the past few weeks (months) (since meeting Thrawn).

Ellie shakes her head when she feels him reaching down to rub her clit. “No.” It’s too much, too soon.

“Yes.” He lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a hiss and a growl, and _stang_ is it one of the hottest things she’s ever heard.

A few more thrusts and a few rubs of her clit is all it takes, and then she’s coming again. Her legs give out, dropping her flat to the bed, but that doesn’t seem to stop Thrawn. He simply straddles her like that, pinning her hands on either side of her head now, and continues fucking her until he comes.

Later ( _much_ later; Ellie learned a lot about Chiss stamina and refractory periods tonight) after they’ve showered (again) Thrawn leans down and presses a tender kiss to her forehead before pulling the sheet over the two of them. “ _Tras_.”

Ellie stares up at him, eyes dancing across his face. There’s a heaviness to that word; it’s something important, something she knows she can’t just let slide. “What does that mean?”

“ _Mine.”_ Thrawn’s eyes search her face, no doubt looking for a reaction.

All she can do is blink a few times, then, “How do I respond?”

Thrawn smiles. It is, she’s certain, the first time she has seen such a look on his face in the entire time she’s known him. “ _Dashe._ Yours.”

She reaches up to cup his face as she feels a warmth blooming in her chest. “ _Dashe._ ”

Ensign Ellie Vanto has a problem; she’s pretty sure she’s falling in love with Thrawn.

And then the big, blue bastard goes and wakes her up the next morning by sticking his _freezing cold feet_ on her bare ass.

“ _Thrawn!”_

**Author's Note:**

>  _Retan'cehah_ : Silence
> 
> Tras and Dashe are from Evilmouse's [Interpreter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17969984/chapters/42444221). 
> 
> The concept of the _tsuzepi_ is from Drac's [Obedience](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715040).


End file.
